


Ascension

by fewlmewn



Series: Original Stories [13]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Cosmogony, Dreams vs. Reality, End of the World, Extinction, Fictional Religion & Theology, Near Death Experiences, Pre-Apocalypse, Religion, Theogony, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:42:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21785401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fewlmewn/pseuds/fewlmewn
Summary: Illinor the Placid gives an account of his rise to power and, eventually, godhood.
Series: Original Stories [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1043202





	Ascension

**Author's Note:**

> Companion piece to [Mind of the Host](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21771781)

“Corruption”, they call it. Lush trees and tumid, vibrant flowers wilting under the scouts’ gaze with each mile they attempt to map in an ever-shifting landscape. To the untrained eye, the lands of the Emerald Depths appear as if afflicted by a disease, a cancerous growth that already has reclaimed our compatriots at the Shrine of Bast. The temple there is now but a pile of ash, and the treasury has undoubtedly been raided by ravagers, escaping the destruction mounting from the East. But I’ve communed with our ancestors in the land of the Fae, and they’ve given me sight to understand our plight. A war is coming - not brought by the daemons who spring forth from the Hells below, far from here, where the earth created the Spine of the World, but from every direction. The very elements are on the brink of revolting against us mortals, and I fear what much more powerful beings might inflict upon us when the time comes. I have learned of ways to reduce the damage, but the world will be changed indeed. I and mine have found a spot - a clearing of sorts - where the jungle gives way to green plains. Everyone says we should settle there, gather our strength for the battles ahead, and I’m inclined to agree. On the matter of the settlement’s name, however, they find me in disagreement. I might be the one chosen to safeguard what world-changing knowledge our ancestors saw fit to impart me, but I still remain humble enough to refuse to name a city after myself.

-

Hyla convinced me it would be a good idea, a legacy for us after last year’s miscarriage. I wanted to argue, but how could I against such a statement? I’m getting too old for parenthood, and Hyla can hardly brave another attempt; I haven’t told her all of what I know, all of what I’ve seen, but I would be cruel to bring a child into a world that I know is about to end. Our clan is hard at work to build a village around these forgotten huts we’ve stumbled upon - a blessing of their own - and I rejoice in seeing their hopeful faces, covered in sweat and dirt, as they pour their strength into creating “Illinor”. My name will be marked on maps for as long as the settlement survives, but I’d much rather be remembered by those I manage to keep alive through the apocalypse. There’s much to do.

-

We’ve assembled a veritable following, and I’m not as ill at ease when swathes of people treat me as a prophet, as some sort of a god. I understand it now.

The soil under our feet is dying, cities have been razed to the sickened ground near the coast… more and more of the Emerald Depths has succumbed to the blight, and people are starting to notice who is waging this war against us. Not daemons, but their masters. Not humankind, but those who created it. Gods are descending and ascending once more to bring the hubris of humanity to an end, to erase centuries of arrogance, to start the perfect world they’ve weaved anew.

The Keep has been built, and the settlement is a few thousands strong, now. We have enough to sustain ourselves, but this is just the beginning.

-

It’s a good thing I decided to send out the latest patrol only after the completion of the Onirium. My “Room of Dreams” had already proven to be an invaluable asset during the experiments conducted in the past months, when those grievously injured by the sinkhole a few miles from here took well to my techniques. The suspension is working, and their bodies are in a state such that the mind can rest while the body heals. The healthiest of subjects from that batch had just begun to wake when the architect deemed the hall finished. That’s when I decided to send a few of our soldiers to the border beyond the sinkhole, to scout the enemy lines.

Elusive, they are - they’ve brought their destruction to the settled folks I once shunned, the ones living in the Capital and larger cities. When I was but a humble wizard for our wandering clan, I never would’ve thought I’d have a permanent residence of stone and wood; but now that not only do I live in a fortress, but I also lead the people who built it for me, I fear that the City of Illinor will be next.

This was the reasoning behind my tactical choices, and I’m seeing the fruits of such foolish thoughts. The scouts are coming back to me in terrible condition. I’ve barred Hyla from coming into the Keep, lest her health suffers from the mere sight. Maimed bodies and broken minds - I dare not think of what the enemy has done to ours to leave them so utterly destroyed.

My closest colleagues and brightest of apprentices are the only ones I trust with the Onirium when I’m not the one maneuvering it. In this room, the arcane and the divine have been harnessed to serve humanity, and judging by recent history, this is more than a foolish act, it’s blasphemy. Yet, I do it. For the sake of my people, for the sake of Hyla, for the sake of a new world.

The initial procedure is complete, the survivors were successfully suspended, and are now shrouded in arcane slumber and life-saving magics. But my work is not yet done, I shall return to them and see if I can speed up their recovery at all. We need all the soldiers we can.

-

The Emerald Depths are officially gone, though I’m not surprised. It’s been an eradication a long time coming, it was just a matter of semantics until the moment came. Survivors from the cities passing through Illinor have said there’s talk of renaming the land “Emera”, a glimmer of hope that the world will recover after the worst has passed, and the lush greenery will be born from the ashes of an interdimensional war, once more. I’ve sampled the sand that lies where the jungle once grew, and I know that there’s precious little that can overcome the utter destruction waged by the forces that made humankind. But not us. Not I and ours. We were not made in their image, and we can survive because we are other. We must.

I have knowledge of other clans such as mine gone into hiding - for the best. I can only wish them the best from afar, that they might still stand once the world has ended. I seem to understand that our enemy wishes not to destroy the world, but simply the mortals crawling across it, and all they’ve created. We’ll lose centuries of progress, and the connection between the planes will be severed, but the Fyrian people can and will survive with nothing but the elements left to shape the land. And from it, we will thrive like we did in the beginning. There’s not much left to do, I’ve done all I could.

Hyla has passed, peacefully amid the chaos, and I long to join her in the Realms Beyond once my work is done.

Everyone that could be saved has been suspended, and I’ve arranged for illusions to cloak our unconscious bodies to mask us as corpses in the event hordes of enemies swarm the Keep to look for stragglers. The city will look as destroyed as superficial enchantments will allow, and I hope no one will think to sample the strength of our walls by hand, as that could reveal the deception I’ve set into place.

As for myself - a friend helped me concoct a special draught that will allow me to remain conscious. I’ve no desire to be suspended any longer than strictly necessary, so this might be my only chance to experience what lies Beyond, there where I’ve sent so many of my clan in need of peace - albeit not permanently. Am I defying death, or simply helping us mortals come to terms to the struggles of life on our own terms, by our own will? Are our Gods as illusory as these magics I work upon the world or are they real, like those walking the world wreaking havoc? If they indeed exist, they’ll be the judges of my fate, they alone will decide if I’ve done good upon my people, or if I’ve doomed every soul that experienced the Onirium to eternal punishment.

As for myself, I simply want to defy reality, and look at what no mortal has ever laid eyes on.

-

The world in its infancy is truly something to behold. Once barren land now does not carry the weight of destruction, it simply resembles the unblemished skin of a newborn. Lakes and rivers map out the body of this newly-born creature like organs and vessel through which blood - and life - flows. Valleys and hills, plains and mountains are features assembled with a unique perfection by nature, and to a parent they’ll look beautiful no matter what happens to them, how they’ll change.

Is this what the creators of the world saw once they were done planning the entire universe? It’s so perfect, risen from the ashes of civilizations, centuries in the making and undone in the span of a few decades. It pains me to recognize how did humankind twist and misconstrue such a wondrous creation, and it embarrasses me to realize that the end of the world was a necessary evil. The one, small joy I take from the deeds of humanity is to see that the Fyrians still survived the apocalypse. My former clan mates, companions scattered across the world, found shelter among the elements; hidden from the horrors of the war by rocky outcroppings, in plain sight among sandy dunes, sheltered by a canopy of dead branches. If the world is to be entrusted to them, then it will be reborn in good hands.

They’ve changed, however. This new reality is shaping the thoughts of those who survived, and they started finding hope in the unlikeliest of places. Without gods and daemons roaming the land, they’re making their own deities from what they know. They worship the land, ideals and abstractions - anything that can explain how such a harsh world can be welcoming, still.

They’ve called the cataclysm “Division”; the moment when the creators of the universe finally decided that remaining among their creations would’ve only brought suffering, choosing then to erase everything and leave humanity to its own devices, with no masters, no overlords - but nature, and their own drives. Some have found goodness, established a faith to guide their actions; others have gone towards egotism, even cruelty, reveling in the tenets of a self-serving philosophy. There’s a beautiful balance in that, knowing that no external hand is shaping these people into one or the other doctrine.

When I gaze upon the remains of my homeland, I find no evidence of the Emerald Depths. The Spine of the World -  _ ever present behemoth of unflinching, insurmountable earth _ \- forks where it meets the ocean -  _ ever present expanse of still and yet troubled water _ . There, a crack splits it, and the sky -  _ ever present infinity of weightless dread and life-giving air _ \- plunges to the depths of the world, touching pools of flame -  _ ever present labyrinth of scorching, contagious fire _ \- and sublimating into the perfect cradle for this new world. Sprung forth from that chasm are miles and miles of pristine, golden sand. These Scorching Wastes of civilization will tell their stories, in time.

At the ruins of my city, one I never wanted but which meant salvation for many of us, new life is slowly blooming. My clan awakened, as by design, and went out into this new world, to witness what I am seeing now from the Realms Beyond. My body lay there, unmoving and unfeeling, scars from splintered timber and collapsing stone healing on their own in my slumber. Years passed and still I slept. Until something changed.

A child, whose parents had named Illyn after the runes left whole of my name once the crumbling Keep had settled, stepped up to my body. The fortress was halfway through being rebuilt - an effort I have the foresight to know will unfortunately not last as long as they’d want it to - and what was left of me, my mortal flesh, had been moved to a place of honor within the Onirium. On a stone bed was a ceremonial stole, blue with indigo arabesques and silver embroidery; beneath my head a down pillow of pure white, and above me a case made of the clearest glass. Illyn gazed upon me, wide eyes filled with childlike admiration, and said “thank you for saving us”. Illyn paid me homage, and I began my journey. From the wispy, nebulous void between the realms to what exists Beyond, I was raised to godhood. Illyn’s faith in my deeds was my ascension.

Years later, Illyn’s efforts returned a following of faithful acolytes, not unlike what I had had in life, as a leader of my clan. Illyn became a priest, pledged to learn of ways to help others like I had. Wanting to make good use of the Onirium, Illyn studied day and night to achieve such a goal.

I found in me the nascent strength to provide him what knowledge was needed to perform miracles and divine magics, and with my guidance Illyn became a beacon of healing and hope for the Fyrian people who had survived the end of the world. With Illyn, and Illyn’s successors, they’d survive for generations to come, despite the challenges ahead, despite the enemies approaching to encroach on what we’d reclaimed, despite the Matron of Lies preying on my people to twist their minds and make them hers.

I stand Beyond the Realms to witness the unfolding of fate, guiding my children scattered across the world. Nurturing their hopes, cleansing their bodies of injury and disease.

I never would’ve thought I’d become a god when I first decided to lead my clan towards new horizons, but now that everything is a new horizon I’m looking forward to seeing all of it.

I never joined Hyla, but in a way I’m in a place where I can always be next to her. Her soul is here, Beyond, and although we’re very different in nature, she resonates within me, the echo of her kindness keeps me whole, keeps me humble. Together we’ll keep our children safe.


End file.
